


False Idols

by ShadowsOffense



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Drug Addiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsOffense/pseuds/ShadowsOffense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The seven virtues can be just as deadly as the sins.  Meredith's is temperance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	False Idols

Meredith toyed with the second stopped vial, drawing a thin line in the wax seal with her thumb nail. So little pressure and she could... no. Pulling back, she trailed her fingers over the cool glass, smooth and ungiving.

Already the warmth from the first was fading and the Knight Commander slumped in her chair. There was so much paper work, so much time stuck behind her desk. Her Maker-given task, to care for her men, to oversee the destruction of magic’s wickedness, made her spine straighten with pride... but she missed it sometimes. The deep satisfaction of sinking her blade into a maleficarum, wiping away their evil, tasting the copper of their blood in the air and the power of lyrium flush through her veins. 

Her hands trembled and she clenched them into fists. Active mage hunters got far more lyrium than the rest; they needed it, to replenish their powers. The blue vial on her desk glittered in the sunlight and her fingernails scored half-moons into the palms of her hands. Meredith was not unthinking, she knew why her body cried out, but she ached for it even so. It had been years since she had been an active hunter and her body still begged for more than the one pitiful potion per day. Another Maker-given burden. She would not let it defeat her.

There was a slight tremor in her hand as Meredith reached out and trailed her fingers along the glass again, as if simple proximity could help ease the ache inside. Her near perpetual headache began to return and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Vaguely she could remember a time when she had not been so eager for blood. Once, once she had let a maleficar go. The Chantry had punished her for forsaking her duty. A “release” they had called it, from her duty and from the lyrium they supplied. One day, one single day. Body shaking, near blinded from the pain, she had dragged the child’s corpse to their gates. Not begging nor pleading, but penitent, headless of the blood that had dripped from her hair, her hands. Her head always seemed to throb in echo of that terrible day now.

They had been right to punish her. She had sworn to the Maker, vowed to cleanse magic’s evil from the land, no matter the form it took. She had faltered and He had punished her, just and gruesome. She knew that now.... and she knew what demons could lurk behind an innocent seeming. Even her own sister had fallen. They always did, it was just a matter of time. The child she had killed had already been dead, little more than walking prey for a demon looking for real innocents to slaughter. Sooner or later mages always gave in to evil, it ran in their veins the same as their powers, and had to be put to the sword.

But surely drinking just one extra vial was not so great a sin, was it? Not so great an evil.

Shoving back from the desk, violently, Meredith stormed out of the room. She did not dare look back at the haunting blue potion, still glittering in the sunlight.

Her feet carried her into the market, letting her loose herself in the crush of people. Noise and heat surrounded her from all sides and still she shivered under her armor. How many days had she already given into temptation? As the Knight Commander, she had control over the Templar’s lyrium. It was always there, always available. Always.... Once a month had become once a week. No, more often. She had to be strong. 

Dear Andraste. She had to....

Did all the Knight Commanders abuse their power? Maker, she just _wanted_. Every day, every hour, she fought against herself. Still succeeding more than she failed, but for how long? _Maker give me strength! I need your aid._

Striding blindly through the crowd, by another merchant’s booth, her fingers brushed against a red crystal and her body went rigged with ecstasy as the Maker dropped his hand upon her...

And spoke.

_Those who oppose thee_  
 _Shall know the wrath of heaven._  
 _Field and forest shall burn,_  
 _The seas shall rise and devour them,_  
 _The wind shall tear their nations_  
 _From the face of the earth,_  
 _Lightning shall rain down from the sky,_  
 _They shall cry out to their false gods,_  
 _And find silence._  
-Andraste 7:19 


End file.
